Joëlle Simeu
We stroll through the Brooklyn Botanical
on an incandescent Saturday afternoon,
a promenade that shuffles us past petunias
and blushing magnolias.
. . .
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Remica Bingham-Risher
Dreadlocked and beaming,
he reminded me of Jesus
fingering the heel and arch
of a new disciple,
. . .
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Deborah A. Miranda
When it’s over, you will emerge from history
as if from a lake, trauma trickling off your limbs,
. . .
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Molly McCully Brown
Out the window a boy builds
his car from spare parts: unboxes
the fender in the parking lot, bends
to wipe it clean with the seam
of his shirt. Shine of his stomach
. . .
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Dr. Irène P. Mathieu
after all this it’s
the miracle of what took –
blood vessels knotting their
fingers into the red room at
the center of me, the cure
that worked, the vaccine
that won. today I explained
. . .
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Libby Kurz
Driving to work, I am thankful
for every dark mile, leaving behind
the dishes soaking in the sink,
the crumpled laundry abandoned
in baskets at the foot of the stairs,
the children still quiet under
the soft hood of sleep. This morning
. . .
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Nathan M. Richardson
There are threads of your wisdom
woven into our poetry, making the fabric
stronger than corduroy
. . .
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makayla lorick
Today we will become morning glories,
desperate to climb, twist, and flower –
our veins will harden into vines
. . .
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Joan Mazza
All my life searching for that summer
bungalow on Great River Drive, at the top
of Saltaire Road. High up, my mother said,
no danger of flood. We walked downhill
to the beach at the end of Woodhull
. . .
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